Gone
by missparker85
Summary: The Slayer always knows where she is needed.


_And everything that I said I'd do, _  
_like make the world brand new and take the time for you,_  
_just got lost and stepped right through the dawn_  
_and the world spins madly on. _  
- The Weepies

*

It had been three months.

Sure, there was a stray vampire here and there, or once, a demon who really hadn't put up much of a fight, but mostly there was nothing. Xander and Willow had stopped patroling with her. There was no point, really. Xander got a part time job slinging burgers. Willow stayed in her house, practicing spells, waiting for college to start. All Buffy did was walk in a big spiral holding a stake that never got used.

Giles went with her, though. He stayed by her side well into the scorching summer months. Even at night, the air was warm and dry. Heat rose from the asphalt for hours after the sun had set. Buffy walked in her boots and carried one stake. Giles had stopped carrying the crossbow, had stopped carrying the sword. He kept a cross in the pocket of his jacket.

Buffy could smell him sweating through his suit.

"I read in the paper that Sunnydale has the lowest death toll this month that it's ever had," Buffy said. She was sitting on a headstone, kicking her heels. They'd stopped for a moment. There was a time when he would have chided her for proper respect but even he didn't have anything to say about it on a such a night.

"Hmm," Giles said. He'd brought a book along and was flipping through the index.

"Like, ever. I mean since there was no Sunnydale and then there was a Sunnydale and now it's now time. _Ever_," she said.

"I understood you," he said.

"Giles!"

"Buffy, I read the paper as well. I'm not sure what you'd like to hear."

"Why are we still patroling?" she asked. "Ever since we blew up the school it's been... I'd say dead, but at least I can fight dead things. This is worse."

"I agree," he said.

"So I could be sitting at home watching reruns right now?" she asked.

"If that's what you think is best," he said, closing the book.

"You're supposed to tell me what's best!" she said, kicking her foot. The lack of fighting was making her antsy.

"Buffy, I can train you to be a better fighter, I can teach you about magic and demons, and I can help you hone your skills. But I cannot tell you what's best. You are the Slayer and the Slayer always knows where she is needed."

"Well it's not Sunnydale," she said, crossing her arms. At this, Giles seemed pleased. He nodded, pulled a little leather book out of his coat and a pen. He made a small note. "What?"

"Oh," he said. "Nothing. Buffy, I want you to pay close attention to your dreams. Even the ones that don't seem to be prophetic. Can you do that?"

"Sure," she said.

"Good. Then I say we call it a night." There was a time Buffy would have walked him home, but now they split up. She thought about his words, how careful they had seemed. She climbed in through the bedroom window even though her mother had seen her leave and knew she'd be back late. Earlier that day Joyce had asked Buffy if she needed anything mended or cleaned but Buffy only had regular laundry. She changed into her pajamas without showering - no vampire dust to make her skin itch - and climbed into bed. Her mom knocked lightly even though it was late.

"How'd you know I was home?" Buffy asked.

"You aren't the only one with instincts," her mother said, sitting at her bedside. Joyce pushed Buffy's hair back. "Did you have a good patrol?"

"Quiet," Buffy said.

"Get some sleep," her mother said. She kissed Buffy. "I love you."

oooo

Maybe she'd been having the dreams for weeks and just hadn't realized it. Or hadn't paid attention. Usually her prophetic dreams were vivid and sharp. Usually she woke with her heart pounding. But these were different, these were not orders. These were nudges, gentle whispers, suggestions.

She went to Giles in the late morning. When she came into his apartment, she could smell his teapot growing cooler in the kitchen and the smell of her own sunscreen. The shower was running so she poured her self a cup and sat down on the couch to wait. It wasn't hot tea, but it was better that way on a day so warm. She put three heaps of sugar in it since Giles wasn't watching. She heard the shower stop. When the door handle turned, she spoke up.

"Hey Giles," she said. It was to alert him to her presence. She was turned away but she could see him out of the corner of her eye - his broad shoulders and the moss green towel around his waist.

"Oh. Ah," he said and then quickly climbed the stairs. When he came down he was in his normal Giles clothing - slacks and a button down shirt, though no vest or tie and even the familiar braces were missing. "Good morning, Buffy."

"Barely," she said glancing at the clock on the wall. "Late night?"

"Reading," he said.

"Color me surprised," she said. "Hey, do you want to go get lunch?"

Sometimes they did this. He was unemployed now and the Slayer couldn't exactly hold down a part time job, so some days they spent together.

"All right," he agreed. One of the places they agreed on was a small deli near his flat. It wasn't directly near the high school or the university, so there weren't often young people. Just regulars which Giles preferred. He ordered their sandwiches and she picked a table near the back and sat facing the door. He set down a can of Diet Coke for her and a bottle of water for himself. Buffy liked to be with Giles. She liked to be with all her friends but with Giles, she could sit quietly and it was okay. She ate her sandwich and decided what to say.

"I think," she said. "North."

"North," he repeated.

"I think that's where we're supposed to go next." It was difficult to say it, and as she said the words, she felt heat flare up her back as if she were doing something wrong. But she was also sure of herself. It seemed absurd, the idea of packing up and leaving her life but every night she spent in Sunnydale felt more and more wrong. It was like something was tugging on her and she was pretending like she didn't feel it. But she couldn't pretend anymore.

"We'll have to make some arrangements," he said. "Under the circumstances, I believe it would be best if we, ah, informed your mother and Willow and Xander that you've decided to go to a school out of state after all."

"You don't seem surprised," she said.

"No," he agreed. "I thought this might be happening. The slowness here, the reports of demonic activity in other parts of the world. The hellmouth has been in Sunnydale for a long time, but not forever. Perhaps one is opening elsewhere."

"And it's my job to find it."

"Perhaps," he said again. He wiped his hand on a thin napkin. "It will not be easy to leave Sunnydale. It will not be easy to dissuade your mother from wanting to help you settle in your new location."

"You can leave that to me," she said.

The school idea wasn't a bad one, but Buffy had lied enough to her mother over the years and thought that maybe, just this once, the truth would be best.

When Joyce got home from the gallery, Buffy had ordered dinner. Buffy had thought briefly about trying to cook something but didn't want the entire night to be completely ruined, so she ordered Chinese. Joyce seemed grateful and relieved to not have to cook. Buffy had poked through all the cupboards and the refrigerator but had found nothing that seemed like it could be part of a meal, but Joyce could always seem to make something out of nothing - a skill, Buffy was sure, that had to do with motherhood. At the table, Buffy squared her shoulders. She had to appear sound of mind, she had to show her mother that she was certain and that this was the path of her life and nothing like getting on a Greyhound bus to get a head start on something sinister.

"They're having a sale on extra long twin sheets at Target," her mom said. "I heard it on the radio. I know you haven't decided about the dorms yet, but I still think it should be a part of your college experience."

"Mom," Buffy said. "I've decided not to go to UC Sunnydale."

"What?" Joyce asked. "Buffy, we talked about this! It's awfully late to see if any of your other admissions will still take you. Why on earth would you change your mind now?"

"I know we talked about my reasons to stay in Sunnydale," Buffy said. "But that was because of Slayer stuff. I needed to stay in Sunnydale because of all of the bad energy here."

Joyce looked down into her plate.

"You and I both know that Sunnydale has been... quiet," Buffy said, echoing their conversation from earlier. "If Sunnydale doesn't need the Slayer then somewhere else does."

Joyce was quiet for a while. "Where?"

"I'm not sure yet," Buffy said. "Giles thinks..."

"This is Rupert Giles' idea?" her mother said, her voice rising in volume.

"No," Buffy said, struggling to keep her calm. "It wasn't, it was mine but he agrees."

"Let me get this straight. You want to just pack up and leave in search of somewhere that has more vampires? In the third week of August? How are you going to find a school that will take you if you don't even know where it is?" Joyce demanded. Buffy shifted in her seat a little, uncomfortable, and waited for her mother to figure out what she hadn't said. It didn't take long. "You're not going to school."

"Maybe some day," Buffy offered. "Maybe when I'm older. We know the Slayer line goes through Faith. Maybe the girl who gets called after her will be more suited for the job and she can take over and I can go back to being a regular person, but for right now, I'm all that there is."

"I don't accept this," Joyce said. "You said you were going to UC Sunnydale - you need to fulfill that obligation."

"I'm not asking your permission," Buffy said. "I'm telling you what's happening."

"You're my daughter," Joyce said, her eyes glossy with tears. "I grew you inside of me. You can't just... you can't just leave."

Buffy held her mother's hand and let her cry.

oooo

Giles bought plane tickets to Seattle. Buffy wasn't sure how he got back onto the Council's good side, but when she asked about money and resources, he told her that no matter what had happened in the past, it was the job of the Watcher's Council to support the Slayer. Giles had a friend in Seattle and there they could figure out what to do without the burden of their Sunnydale lives still on them. Xander and Willow were upset - inconsolably at first, but understood that it had to be done. Giles paid up his flat until the end of the lease and told Xander he could move in if he wanted and keep the furniture and things once the lease was up. Ultimately, Buffy and Giles didn't take much. Giles shipped the weapons ahead and the core of his library collection, but with the Council on their side once more, they wouldn't need such an extensive library on hand. Willow kept the rest of the books and reminded Buffy that she was only a phone call away if they needed research help. Mostly what they traveled with was clothing.

They left the first of September and got in just as the sun set. Buffy had been oddly stoic on the flight, especially after the tearful goodbye at the airport.

"Are you all right?" he had asked.

"I really am," she'd said. "This feels like the right thing, Giles."

"It does," he'd agreed.

When they got their bags, Giles rented a car. He handed Buffy a map and directions and she helped him navigate the unfamiliar city streets. When they pulled up to the house, it was dark.

"Who is your friend?" Buffy asked.

"An old college chum," Giles said. "He's out of town, actually. You won't meet him." Buffy was relieved at this news. Giles fished an envelope from the mailbox that contained a key and a note and let them into the house. In the living room sat the boxes they'd sent ahead. Buffy looked around the empty house but it was unremarkable. There were a few bedrooms and one bathroom. Giles seemed tired from the trip but she wasn't.

"I'd like to patrol," she said.

"All right," he agreed.

"I know you're tired," she said. He shook his head as if to brush it off. Something told Buffy not to wait. The place smelled dirty to her - it wasn't the house but it city itself. Any place with docks, with access to ships, tended to have a higher rate of vampire activity and Seattle was water on three sides. They changed their clothes and ate what food they found in the pantry. Then, with weapons in hand, the got back into the rental car.

"I don't need to tell you to be careful," Giles said, driving through the light drizzle. "You haven't had a good fight in some time."

"I know."

"Police here will not look the other way in the same way they would have in Sunnydale," he said.

"What about your Watcher's credentials?" she asked.

"It doesn't mean we wouldn't spend the night in a cell," he said.

"Got it," she said. "Don't piss off the po-po."

"You ready?" he asked, pulling into a vacant parking slot behind a dark and damp warehouse.

"If I get any more ready, I'm going to start killing regular people," she said, pushing open the door. Giles got out, too.

"That would be bad," he offered but she was already marching into the night. He could do little but try to keep up.

oooo

They stumbled into the house as the sun rose. Buffy looked worse than she felt, Giles was certain, but she had taken some nasty blows. He was sore, had taken a few hits, but she had kept him safe - sometimes at her own cost.

"Go shower," he said. "Then I'll patch you up."

"Can't I just sleep it off?" she whined, easing off her coat.

"I'd prefer it if you didn't bleed all over this house," he said. She rolled her eyes, but picked up her suitcase and went down the hall. He heard squeaky pipes come on a moment later. Giles sat down in one of the kitchen chairs and thought about putting on the coffee maker just to make it through the next 30 minutes, but couldn't bother. Instead he used the last of his energy to dig the first aid kit out of his suitcase. When Buffy came out, she was dressed in a tank top and pajama pants. There was a nasty gash on her arm and he could already see bruises blossoming over the pale skin of her back and shoulders. She slumped wordlessly into another chair and stuck out her arm. He inspected it for a moment before applying a few butterfly bandages and then wrapped it in gauze so it didn't seep onto the sheets.

"Anything else?"

She extended her left foot to show him her swollen ankle.

"Not much to be done about that, I'm afraid," he said. "Would you like me to wrap it up?"

She shook her head.

"I'm tired," she said.

"Off to bed, then," he said. "You take the master." She hesitated for only a moment, but then decided to follow his orders. He heard the bedroom door click shut. His bedroom greeted him filled with early morning light. He closed the blinds but it did little to truly darken the room. The bed was a day bed and he felt ridiculous and large climbing into it. It squeaked as he rolled around but soon enough, he slept.

oooo

After three weeks, Giles bought a van. A full-sized van with a solid engine and dark windows. It wasn't beautiful, but it held everything they needed and, hopefully, would withstand whatever they would put it through. Buffy had been relentless in her sweep of the city and they'd been out every night without fail, but now the demon population had dwindled and the word had gotten out that the Slayer was in town. The owner of the house was due home soon as well, so they packed their things into the van and put the key back in the mailbox.

"North," Buffy said.

"Still?" he asked. She nodded.

"Snow," she said. "I see snow."

"North it is," he said.

Buffy in the car was nearly intolerable. He realized very soon that he would have to teach her to drive competently so she would have something to do while they were on the move. As it were, she was constantly moving from the back to the front, rummaging around in some bag or another, deciding it was a good idea to polish a sword while on a bumpy road. When it was time to cross the border into Canada, they covered the weapons with tarps and blankets and hoped that the border guards would not want to search them. When he handed over their passports, he handed over his Watcher's credentials as well. The guard looked at the unfamiliar identification card for a moment and then told them to wait where they were.

"Should we make a break for it?" she asked.

"I think we ought to do as he said and wait," Giles said. But the guard was gone for several moments, long enough that a build up of traffic was idling behind them. When the guard came back, he passed back their documents and handed Giles another form.

"Show this to any guard at any border crossing point," he said. "You won't have any trouble, Mr. Giles." The guard leaned over a bit to see Buffy. "Miss Summers. Welcome to Canada."

Giles thanked him and pressed his foot on the gas. Buffy was quiet for several minutes.

"That was weird, right?" she said, finally.

"I believe," Giles said. "That being on the Watcher Council's good side is going have some benefits."

"At least in Canada," she said, looking out the window.

They spent three weeks in Edmonton and four in Winnipeg. Canada and Buffy didn't agree, exactly. She'd spent her entire life in California and hated the cold, the remote feeling in even the large cities. But at the same time, she was single minded in a way Giles had never seen before. Her complaints were superficial and relatively few. She didn't mope for her friends, rarely called her mother, and didn't, as he feared, grow tired of ihim/i. Instead she kept pushing forward, searching for something.

"Not yet," she would say, at every new place. "But let's stay here for a while."

Sometimes they camped out in the van if it wasn't too cold, or Giles would have some connection. Sometimes, they shared a motel room. They crossed back over into the States and spent Christmas eve in Detroit. Buffy hated Detroit. She said the whole city made her skin crawl, made the hairs on her arm stand straight up.

"There's badness here," she said. "Not just vampires, either." It was a dreary conclusion to draw on the eve of Christmas. To decide to stay in such a place. Buffy had gotten better about patroling in the snow but the snow in Detroit was dirty slush on the sidewalks - the sound of cars passing outside their motel room was constant, even over the loud fan of the heating unit.

Buffy used Giles' disposable phone to call her mother - didn't bother to try her father. She tucked her wet hair behind her ear as she said, "I miss you too, mom." Giles believed that she did miss her mother, but Buffy was strangely detached about the idea of home. He hadn't sensed any homesickness. He forgot sometimes that she was only eighteen, forgot that as a Slayer, she was considered feral. She wasn't used to being separated from her family, to this nomadic life with only her Watcher for companionship.

When she was through with the phone, he placed a call to the Council who would arrange more permanent lodgings.

He didn't expect the accommodations to be particularly nice and they weren't. Giles was surprised when they were ready on a holiday. He had forgotten how persuasive the Council could be when working for him, not against. It was a small apartment, technically furnished though that meant an old couch, a mattress without a frame, and a table with a single chair. The landlord gave him the keys without saying more than three words and left them to their own devices. The neighborhood was abysmal - generally the heart of any demonic activity, but Buffy didn't complain. Giles parkd the van on the street and Buffy carried every single thing inside and made sure it was locked up tight.

The first night they patroled, the day after Christmas, they stood out simply by virtue of being white. Giles had traded his suits and ties for jeans, heavy boots, and knit sweaters but they still looked out of place. Buffy had to bundle up and she slid on the ice more than once.

Back in their dingy, one bedroom apartment, Buffy eased out of her damp jeans to reveal a purple bruise blossoming at the line of her underwear. She held out the elastic to peer down at the damage. Giles winced in sympathy.

"This actually hurts," she muttered.

"You fell rather hard," he agreed. She'd been aided by a demon but had mostly lost her footing on the landing. Giles offered her a balm that might help and she took it into the bathroom. They'd picked up fast food and he plated it for them - a grasp at civility. When she came out, she handed him a small box wrapped in newspaper.

"I know Christmas was yesterday but..." She tilted her head. He took the box. She hadn't mentioned gifts so he'd let it go. He opened the package to find a small, leather bookmark with a Gothic cross stamped on it.

"It's lovely," he said. he didn't know when she could have obtained it, they were always together. "I don't..."

"You've done enough," she assured him.

In the spring, they sold the van. They bought tickets and boarded an overnight flight. Buffy had woken him in the night, certain of where to go next. A phone call from the Council in the morning confirmed it - a new hellmouth was forming. Giles suggested letting Buffy's mother and friends know they were going abroad but she brushed it off.

"I'll send them a postcard," she'd said. Maybe he ought to worry, how she was closing herself off but she wasn't closed off to him. She told him anything he asked, sometimes more than. She made him laugh, wanted him on patrol with her. The only time they were apart was while sleeping, and then, not always.

It had been three years since Giles had set foot on his home soil, nearly four. Buffy fell into step just behind him - a telling move since she'd taken the leadership role since, really, her eighteenth birthday. But England, the Council, these were his turf and she was deferring, for now. A car picked them up at the airport and took them to the Council building. It wasn't a short ride, but Buffy didn't ask questions. Giles could tell she didn't trust the driver to keep any confidences and why should she? Buffy and Giles were both weary, rumpled from travel, from wearing the same clothes and shoes for months now. Buffy's hair was long and wild. Perhaps in the downtime he would treat her to a salon visit. Her roots were dark and it made her look severe. He was probably quite shaggy as well.

At the Council, a junior member, little more than an aide, tried to put them in separate quarters but Buffy wouldn't have it.

"Do you know who I am?" she said. They laughed about it later in their shared room. Underneath, though, Giles felt unsettled. The Council tended to have its own motives and while regrouping and researching all sounded well and good, he thought there was probably something else they wanted and he could see that Buffy thought that, too. Still, he didn't voice these concerns to his Slayer. Knowing Quentin Travers, Giles thought Travers probably just wanted to observe the pair - the Slayer and the Watcher who had outlasted so much together.

She didn't sleep that night. She sat up, keeping watch. He couldn't help but sleep, dozing off while she paced their quarters like an animal in a cage. She was used to patroling every night. She was still nursing a hurt shoulder from a previous fight. Anyone else would have lost their arm. In the morning, she was still favoring it. She sat on the edge of the bed. He offered to work on the muscle for a while, but he couldn't convince her to lay down, to stretch out and let him near her. He put his glasses on.

"I wish you would talk to me," he said, softly.

"I just want to know what's going on," she said. "I don't need a massage."

"All right," he said. "Still, don't let them see." It was his only advice for the moment on the matter of her injury. "I'm going to go speak to Travers," he said.

"Oh goody," she said.

"Why don't you try to get some sleep?" he suggested. "I'll come back with breakfast. Perhaps we can, uh, take the day off?"

"I vaguely remember the concept," she said. "Go, I'll be fine."

When Giles came back with coffee and scones, Buffy was still asleep, sprawled out across the bed. He set the food on the nightstand and decided to shower and change. When he came out, she was awake, eating happily.

"Did you sleep enough?" he asked. She shrugged one shoulder. "I thought we might, I don't know, go for a walk when you're up and ready."

"A walk?" she asked. "It's daylight."

"Buffy, I know that we spend a lot of time patroling but it's not dangerous for _us_ to go out into the sunlight," he said.

"Look at you with your sarcastic self," she said. "Don't we have to stay and talk to the Watchers who are even more British than you?"

"I spoke with Travers," Giles said. "I told him we've been working tirelessly for months. You've given up your entire life to chase some evil that is turning out to be rather fleeting and you've done so without complaint. We deserve a rest and by God, we're taking it."

"Here, here!" she said, raising her Styrofoam coffee cup. "But really, it's not necessary."

"I thought we might go shopping," he said.

"I'm up!" she said, rushing into the bathroom.

Usually, Giles would recoil at the thought of shopping with Buffy but it was nice, walking through the busy streets of London, the dappled sunlight of early spring on their skin. When Giles pointed to the hair salon, Buffy grinned, took his credit card and disappeared. There was a barber shop a few blocks away, much more his speed compared to the spacious salon filled with women and loud music. When he was finished, she was still inside so he wandered down the street, browsing shop windows and venturing inside a greengrocer. He didn't worry about Buffy finding him - she had a knack for knowing where he was. And sure enough, as he was paying for the food, she appeared at his side. Her full blondness was restored and she'd cut her hair off into a smart bob.

"Look at you," Giles said. "Very nice."

"Thanks," she said. "I was tired of..." she glanced at the man behind the counter. "My long hair getting caught in stuff at work."

"Pragmatic," he said.

"I can see your eyes again," she said. "You know just because we lead a life of skulking through the darkness and sleeping in a van doesn't mean we can't take care of ourselves."

"I agree," he said, taking the bag of groceries from the man who was definitely giving them odd looks. "I've been following your lead."

"My lead," she said, taking the bag from him and carrying it. "Have I been leading us to look grungy?"

"You've been fairly single minded in your task," he said. "It's not bad. You have very good focus when you want to. It's part of being a Slayer."

"I thought that working hard would make me..." She paused. "Feel better, I guess."

"Better than what, exactly?" he asked. They had crossed the road into the park and he motioned them toward a wooden bench under a tree. She sat down, still holding the bag close.

"Before I was always reaching for something," she said. "Trying to have something that I wasn't supposed to have."

"I'm not sure I follow," he said. He reached into the bag and handed her a can of diet soda. She took it and fiddled with the tab on the top but didn't open it.

"Normal things. Good grades, boyfriends, a social life, a family... but trying to have those things made my life harder all the time. I mean, _all_ the time." She tucked her hair behind her ear. "I don't hear you disagreeing."

He chuckled.

"Anyway," she said. "I decided to take the one thing in my life that worked and try life without all of the extra burden-y things."

"Ah," he said.

"The one thing is you, Giles," she said, noting his slightly confused expression. "You someone how manage to be part of my Slayer life and my regular life. How do you do that?"

"I'm your Watcher," he said, taking the can from her and opening it. She took it back and sipped the foam off the top.

"That's your patent answer for everything."

"Maybe so, but it's a serious one," he said. "Slayers and Watchers are meant to be together. A Slayer is meant to spend, literally, her entire life with her Watcher, whatever that life may bring. When you wanted friends and school and to stay with your mother, it was unorthodox, but we made it work. And when you decided to embrace your destiny..." He smiled at her, the corner of his eyes crinkling up in the way that made Buffy's heart grow warm. "I gladly followed into the dark."

"Thanks," she said. "Do you think I picked the right life?"

"There is no right and wrong, Buffy," he said. "There is only you and me and the war that we fight."

She pressed her lips together, considering this.

"Enough. This is our day off," he said. "Would you like an apple?"

"Sure," she said, taking the waxy fruit from him. She bit into the apple and it was sweet.

That night Buffy dreamed something new. Giles was asleep on a cot on the other side of the room. He'd requested it despite the king size bed that had been provided for them. They had shared smaller mattresses before - generally in dirty, roadside motels or the inflatable one they kept with the tent in the van, but she figured that being inside the Council building meant something more to Giles. When they were on the grounds, he seemed to turn up the British propriety a few notches. In the morning, she was supposed to spend the day speaking with different people, meeting some potentials, and generally just being the entertainment. It was rare that a Slayer came to the Council building herself. But she sat up in bed, her heart beating hard.

"Giles," she hissed. She could hear him snort and snuffle in his sleep, but she hadn't woken him. She got out of the bed and went over to him, crouching by him and putting a hand on his back. "Giles."

"I'm up," he said, slurring the words. "What's the matter?"

"I had a dream," she said.

"I'm here," he said. "You're safe. Go back to sleep."

"Not a scary dream," she said, rolling her eyes in the darkness. His eyes hadn't even opened. "A Slayer dream." She reached across him and grabbed his glasses. He opened his eyes and saw them; he put them on and sat up slightly, his newly short hair sticking up comically.

"What happened."

"It was like before. The snow, the trees, the same thing I've been seeing."

"Romania," he said. It's where they were headed to, where they had figured out the new hellmouth to be. The Council and several covens had concurred.

"Then I saw the desert, then I saw the shore, like a beach. Then I saw Sunnydale, and then there was another place, like a city. Urban," she said.

"I don't understand," he said.

"It's like it was moving, flashing from place to place, or maybe..."

"More than one," he said.

"Maybe," she agreed. "I'm not sure."

"Can you sleep again?" he asked. She wasn't sure and didn't have to answer. "Do you want to patrol?"

"You said that the Council being here discouraged demonic activity," she said.

"It does," he said, already pulling on his t-shirt. "But demons are notoriously stupid."

They walked out into the night. It was already past two, already a new day. At home, Buffy would be climbing into her window, not starting out, but she felt better already, being outside. It was warm enough that she didn't need her leather jacket. Instead she wore a cotton jacket that zipped. Inside her mother had stitched pockets to hold her stakes. It had been thoughtful - for her last birthday, her mother had sewn stake pockets into all her coats. It had meant a lot at the time, had said to Buffy that her mother was accepting Buffy's reality, finally.

Phone calls with her mother had been strained since she'd left and Buffy called less and less often. She wrote postcards to Willow and Xander, but they didn't have an address to write back, so Buffy didn't expect anything.

"What if the hellmouth in Sunnydale starts back up again?" she asked. "Will we have to go back there?"

"I'm not sure what is going to happen," he said. "There are accounts of secondary hellmouths but none as strong as the one in Sunnydale. Perhaps if there are more than one, they will be weaker than if all that dark energy is focused in one spot."

"But a weak hellmouth is still a hellmouth," she said. "And there is only one of me."

"What would you like to happen?" he probed carefully. She tilted her head.

"Italian Villa," she said. "Warm, breezy. Vampires came to me and just let me stake them. No fuss, no muss. Fresh fruit every day. Think that will happen?"

"I meant," he said dryly. "Do you wish to return to Sunnydale?"

"It feels like, like going backwards," she said. "I'd like to see my mom more often. I miss my friends, but do I want to go back and try to fit back into my old life? I'm not sure I could. It isn't my life anymore."

"I..."

"There's one," Buffy said, and took off at run down a dark alley.

"Understand," Giles finished lamely, before jogging off after her.

In the conference room on the top floor, there were maps spread out across the long, wooden table. Giles could see Buffy holding in many, many tweed jokes when she saw the Watchers leaning over the maps. Giles circled the table slowly. There were red pushpins in various places - he saw Sunnydale right away, Romania, three in Africa, one in what looked to be Ohio.

"All of these?" Buffy asked him. He'd noticed that she spoke to him only, never to the other Council members. If she had to, she'd speak to him in a voice that everyone could hear, but she was still jumpy about the very idea of the Council. She'd told him, more than once, that he was the only Watcher she trusted.

"Reports of increased activity," Travers said. He was standing at the other end of the room, his arms crossed. Buffy had mentioned that she'd gotten bad vibes from him, but had admitted it was not her Slayer senses telling her so, merely her humanity. "It hasn't settled, yet."

"So there's going to be merely one," Giles said.

"No one is sure of anything," Travers said.

"Giles, what are we supposed to do until hell decides where to stop?" she asked.

"A hellmouth is not hell itself, merely a weakness between dimensions," said one of the junior Watchers. Giles rolled his eyes.

"I know what a goddamn hellmouth is," Buffy snapped at him, surprising everyone by addressing the poor chap directly. "I lived on one for three years. Don't waste my time."

"Buffy," Giles said, softly but when she looked at him, she saw he didn't look at all upset. She winked at him.

"Where do your dreams tell you to go?" Travers asked. She looked at Giles, telling him that she wasn't going to answer any sort of questions from that man.

"They are sporadic," Giles offered in her stead. "They show flashes of everywhere. Until the hellmouth settles, we are rather directionless."

It was an odd feeling. Buffy was a soldier without orders.

"I think," Giles said later that night. "That we ought to go to Sunnydale."

"What?" she asked. "But... what about going backwards?"

"You haven't seen your mother in six months," he said. "It's not going backwards. It's a visit until we figure out what to do next."

"I guess," she said, uncertainly. "I mean, I want to see her of course but you know she'll spend the whole time convincing me not to leave again."

"It is her job as your mother, I suspect," he said. "I'll have the flight arranged. Would you like to call her?"

"Nah," Buffy said. "We have this fun tradition where I leave and then show up unannounced on the doorstep several months later."

"Very droll," he said.

"Are you sure we shouldn't try to track this... fluctuation down?" she asked.

"It's a wild goose chase for now," he said. "You're the muscle. Let the brains carry some of the load for a bit."

"Are you calling me stupid?" she asked, elbowing him lightly. A light elbow from a Slayer still gave one pause, however and he rubbed the spot while glaring at her.

"Never," he said. "You are simply using your resources."

"You're my resources," she said.

"Indeed."

Flying back to California seemed to make them both slightly unsettled. Sunnydale did not hold a great deal of fond memories for Giles. The only consistently good thing about the town was sitting next to him on the plane and while it would be good for Buffy to see her friends and family, he didn't have anyone to fly back to. He cared for Willow and Xander, of course, but not in the same way he cared for Buffy. He cared for the other two because of Buffy - for Buffy he burned.

She wouldn't sleep even though he could see she was tired. She picked at her food, squirmed during the film, and wouldn't let him distract her with conversation, books, games, or anything. Finally, he just let her be unhappy and closed his eyes. At LAX, they had to transfer to a smaller plane that would take them to Sunnydale. That flight was always laughably short - they'd hardly taken off before they were descending again.

It was after sunset when they made it into Sunnydale. They retrieved their battered bags from the carousel and Giles offered to rent a car, but it was Sunnydale. Buffy had walked every inch of the town and it didn't feel right. She took her bag and his and they stepped outside.

"Giles?"

Buffy turned around first and then Giles, to see the source of the voice. How very like Sunnydale - they'd been in town for five minutes and had already run into someone they knew. But Giles relaxed at the sight of them - as far as people went, Oz was a good one.

"Hey Oz," Buffy said.

"Hey Buffy," he said. "Long time no anything."

"Hello," Giles said.

"Hey," Oz said, extending his hand. Giles shook it gladly. Buffy surprised them all by hugging him. "Cool."

"What are you doing here?" Buffy asked.

"Oh. Devon. San Francisco," he said. Arrivals and Departures was the same strip of sidewalk at an airport the size of Sunnydale. "You guys want a ride?"

"Sure," Buffy said. Oz slid open the door and Buffy heaved their bags inside. She let Giles sit up front and sat behind them. Oz started the engine and pulled onto the road.

"What brings you all back?" Oz asked.

"Downtime," Giles offered. "I thought it best Buffy saw her mother."

"Joyce?" Oz said. "She's out of town this weekend."

Buffy hadn't realized it was a weekend. "What? How do you know?"

"We keep an eye on her. The house," Oz shrugged. "She went to L.A. on a business trip."

"Huh," Buffy said. "Ironic."

"Has there been increased demonic activity?" Giles asked.

"More vamps," Oz said, slowing to a stop at a red light. "Not like before, though."

"How is Willow?" Buffy asked. It was like she'd been holding the question in and couldn't anymore.

"Good," Oz said. "We broke up."

"I'm sorry," Giles offered.

"Thanks," Oz said. "We're still friendly. She's living in the dorms."

"Do you think she'd want to see me?" Buffy asked.

"I do," Oz said. "She's in Stevenson hall. 214."

"Thanks," Buffy said. "And Xander?"

"You know where Xander lives," Oz said, looking at Giles.

"In my old flat, still?" he asked. Oz nodded. They pulled up outside Buffy's house. It was quiet and dark. She looked at it though the window and felt her heart speed up a little. She wished her mother was inside. "Well. Thank you kindly for the ride."

"Sure," Oz said. "How long are you staying?"

"A little while," Buffy said. "Let's hang out."

"Cool," Oz said. She got their bags. They watched him drive away.

"Do you have a key?" Giles asked.

"Nope," Buffy said. "Thought I'd go in through my bedroom window like old times." He watched her climb the tree and force open the window. A few moments later, the front door opened. "She's really not here."

"I told you to call," he reminded her. She scrunched up her nose at him but said nothing. She went through the house, turning on lamps, looking at photographs, reading the lists on the refrigerator door.

"It's all the same," she said. "Even my room is untouched."

"This is your home," he reasoned.

"It was," she said. "Do you want to sleep in Mom's bed or mine?"

"I'd prefer it if you slept in her bed," Giles admitted. "Are you tired?"

"I don't even know anymore," she said.

"I have to admit, my internal clock feels as if it's been smashed to pieces."

"I was thinking of doing a sweep. Maybe... walking over to your old place?" she said.

"Oh, of course," he said.

"Will you come with me?" she asked.

"Are you sure you want me there?" he asked.

"Yes," she said, without hesitation. "Don't you want to see Xander? I thought you loved him like a son."

"Like a favored nephew, perhaps," he said. "I'll go if you promise to me now that you'll let me sleep all day."

"I promise," she said. "You and me and a big pile of soft pillows."

It felt strange to knock on a front door he once called his own. It wasn't late, exactly, but Giles was still hesitant.

"He may not be home, Buffy," he said, but Buffy shook her head.

"I can hear something," she said. The door opened to reveal a perfect stranger. Had Oz been wrong? It was a young woman, blonde hair and a wide, kind face.

"Hello," she said.

"Hi," Buffy said. "We were, uh, we were looking for Xander."

The girl tilted her head.

"Are you Buffy?" she asked.

"I'm sorry, who are you?" Buffy asked.

"I'm Tara," she said. "Come in, come in. Xander! Willow!"

Buffy glanced at Giles - she hadn't thought about Willow being there as well. They stepped into the apartment. Giles could recognize the furniture but any trace of himself was gone. It was a total college pad now. There were pizza boxes, soda cans everywhere and just a general layer of filth. And among that, Xander and Willow standing and staring at them.

"Hey Buff," Xander said, finally. "You don't call, you don't write... we would've cleaned the place up."

"Buffy," Willow said. Buffy wasn't sure how her friend would react but Willow didn't waste time. She rushed over and threw her arms around Buffy who hugged her back enthusiastically. Giles was next. He dropped a kiss onto her head. They went through it again with Xander.

"Are you back?" Willow asked. "I mean like... what are you doing in Sunnydale?"

"We just," Buffy shrugged, her arm against Giles. She nudged him. She didn't know what to say.

"We're on vacation," Giles offered.

"Vacation," Xander said. "You're on Vacation and you picked Sunnydale?"

"D-do you guys w-want to sit d-down?" asked Tara. She was standing in the back of the living room, watching this reunion.

This time, Giles nudged Buffy.

"We just wanted to stop by, you know, let you guys know we were in town for a little while," Buffy said. "But we're all jet-laggy so maybe we could hangout tomorrow and catch up?"

"Sure," Willow said.

"We're staying at my mom's house," Buffy said.

"Isn't she out of town?" Xander asked.

"You really do check up on her, don't you?" Buffy said fondly. "Hopefully we'll be a happy surprise when she gets home."

"She'll be so happy," Willow promised. "She said she'd be home tomorrow night." Buffy raised her eyebrows. "We have dinner once a week," Willow admitted.

"Come over tomorrow for dinner," Giles suggested. "Perhaps Joyce will come home to a warm and happy home."

"Sure," Willow said. "We'll come, right Xander?"

"I'm sorry," Buffy said. "Before we go... Tara, right? Who are you again?"

"Sorry, God, I'm a spaz," Willow said. "Tara, this is Buffy and Giles. Well, duh, you knew that from the pictures. Buffy, Giles, this is Tara. My, uh, my girlfriend."

Walking home, Buffy led them through the cemetery more out of habit than much else. It was too close to sunrise for anyone to be out - Buffy could smell it drawing near.

"So, Willow being gay is unexpected right," Buffy said.

"Quite," he said.

"Good," she said. "I thought maybe I was just unobservant or something but you're usually on the up and up."

"I was not up," he assured her.

"I don't even know where you stand on the whole issue," Buffy said looking up at him. There was a moment of confusion on her face and then a look of horror. "Oh my God, Giles are you..."

"I'm not gay," he cut her off.

"I just thought for a minute, you know, because all you do is hang out with me."

"Our circumstances are unique," he said. "And you, Buffy, are not enough to turn a man gay."

"Thank you?"

"I'm of the mind... live and let live, I suppose. Do whatever makes you happy."

"Me too." She nodded. "I hope Willow and Xander are happy."

"It's hard to tell, isn't it?" he asked, draping his long arm over her shoulder as they turned the corner onto Revello Drive. She leaned into him, letting his momentum propel her forward down the sidewalk, across the shaggy lawn, and up onto the porch. They'd left the door unlocked and the house was as they'd left it, quiet and familiar. In the hallway upstairs, Buffy kissed his cheek. He was stubbly where her lips brushed lightly against him.

"Night," she said. She closed Joyce's door but did not latch it. Giles thought it would feel weird to disrobe and climb into Buffy's bed, but he was too tired to examine anything but the inside of his eyelids.

Buffy woke him. The sun was bright and he was sweating into the sheets. He woke because he heard her pushing open the window and then felt the delicious breeze on his bare back.

"Good morning," she said.

"Is it morning?" he mumbled, fumbling for his glasses.

"It's 4:30," she said. "So, no."

"I'm still tired," he said.

"I'm hungry and there's not much here. Plus the guys are going to be here for dinner and there's no dinner."

"The supermarket," he said. "Can't I just give you the credit card and if you come back with food and shoes and whatever you I want I'll simply look the other way?"

"Fine," she said. "But when I get back I hope you're showered and shaved. I like you no matter what you look like, but you'll scare the civilians."

Giles did as she said. He showered and shaved, leaning into the mirror past the bottles of hair product and perfumes. This was a house that a man had never lived in, that had never thought once about accommodating a man. Everything was light, airy, and floral upstairs. The gauzy wafting curtains, the crystal knobs on the doors. He carried their bags down to the basement and emptied them. Almost everything inside was dirty. He started sorting the clothes into light and dark but realized quickly enough that the only light colored things were undergarments so he just filled the washer with a load of their things mixed together and headed back upstairs wearing the last clean pair of pants he had and nothing more.

He was in the kitchen pouring coffee into a filter when he heard the car door slam and then the key in the lock. He looked down at his bare chest and winced. He could greet Buffy's mother half-naked or he could rush down into the basement to throw on a dirty shirt and scare the living daylights out of her when he came back up. He decided to wait. He heard her come in and set her purse down on the stairs. He could her, too, the moment when she realized that things were not exactly as she'd left them. He knew for certain Buffy had left a battle axe by the door. He heard Joyce's sharp intake of breath.

"Buffy?" she called out, the hope in her voice heartbreaking.

"No," he called out. "It's, ah, it's Rupert."

Joyce rushed into the kitchen to see Giles standing there. He fought the urge to cross his arms.

"Where is Buffy? Where is my daughter? Is she okay?"

"She's fine," Giles said, holding out his hands. "She's fine. She just went to the supermarket. She should be back any moment."

"What on earth are you doing here?" Joyce asked. "And where is your shirt?"

"The wash," he said. "We got into town yesterday, we wanted to surprise you but you weren't here. We should've called, I wanted to call but Buffy likes surprises."

"I see," Joyce said. "But Buffy is okay?"

"Buffy is perfect, as always," Giles said.

"And all of your shirts are in the washer?" she asked. He couldn't fight the urge to cross his arms any longer. Joyce was eying his tattoo warily, the scar across his belly. She should see his back.

"All the clean ones, I'm afraid. I didn't know when to expect you."

"I'll go upstairs and find you something," she said, shaking her head. "This is all very strange."

When she came down, she handed him a white undershirt. He didn't ask where it came from or whom it belonged to.

There were ten awkward minutes before Buffy came home. Joyce finished the coffee and they sat in the kitchen with mugs, speaking awkwardly. Giles assured her again and again that Buffy was safe, that the work they did was not so dangerous, that her daughter's life was not lacking anything important. Finally, the door to the kitchen opened.

"Mom!" Buffy said, setting the bags down on the floor. "You're home!"

"You're home!" Joyce cried. Giles extracted himself from the kitchen with his cup of coffee and went upstairs. He would let them have this time to catch up. He heard, some time later, the rest of the gang arrive but he still stayed upstairs in Buffy's old bedroom. After months of virtual isolation, facing all of these familiar and questioning faces seemed overwhelming. It was his vacation too, after all, and if he wanted to hole himself upstairs, he could. He knew Buffy would come retrieve him when it was time for dinner. Then maybe, perhaps, Buffy and her friends would go to the Bronze and he could finish his night reading.

He touched a picture of Buffy and himself that was stuck into the frame of the mirror on her vanity. Willow had taken it one Saturday at the library. They'd been researching something and Giles was leaning over Buffy's shoulder - they were reading the same book. He remembered Buffy saying she liked the picture because Giles had seemed extra Watcher-y in it. There were a lot of pictures around the bedroom. She hadn't taken anything sentimental when she'd moved out.

He heard her footsteps on the stairs and then she knocked lightly.

"It's time to eat," she said, poking her head in. "You hungry?"

"Sure," he said.

"You okay?" she asked, coming into the room and shutting the door. "You've been a loner all night."

"I'm just tired," he said. He sat on the edge of the bed. She walked up to him and put her hand on his forehead, moved it to his cheek.

"You deserve a rest," she said. "Want me to bring you a plate?"

"I'll come down with you," he said. "I'm not ill."

"Okay," she said. She took his hand, held it all the way down the staircase and gave it a little squeeze before letting it go.

He went to bed well before everyone left. He didn't sleep, just listened to the sound of the mostly unfamiliar house. Joyce in her bathroom brushing her teeth, the sound of the kids downstairs laughing. The dishwasher coming on, a toilet flushing. He was dozing when the door opened and Buffy came in. She changed into her pajamas with her back to him in the darkness.

"Scooch over," she said.

"You're sleeping here?" he asked, moving.

"Mom's home," she said. "Do you mind?"

"Does she mind?" he asked.

"She's asleep," Buffy said, pulling the covers up over her. She was in the spot he had made warm. She rolled over so her back was to him. He was on his back, one arm under his head. They'd shared a bed many times - he knew how she slept, the noises she made, when she was going to wake up and tell him she'd dreamed something important. Buffy could fall asleep fast and wake up just as easily. She was a hunter, she was always on alert. Giles struggled a bit more. Buffy was a heat machine, and when the open window chilled him, he finally rolled over and pulled her close to him and went to sleep.

One day, Giles went up to the woods. He borrowed a car from an old friend for the day and drove 40 minutes to the clearing he liked best. He thought, perhaps, if he spent some time clearing his mind he would feel better. They'd been in Sunnydale for three weeks. They were still waiting. There were vampires to kill, but it was nothing like it had been and nothing Buffy couldn't handle. He didn't patrol with her every night while in Sunnydale.

It had been a few hours, he'd stayed longer than he thought he would when he heard car tires approaching.

"Giles!"

It was Buffy, with Xander and his girlfriend, the former demon. Buffy was rushing to him; threw her arms around him and they both fell against the ground in a tangle of limbs. For a moment, she'd knocked the wind out of him. He coughed, trying to sit up, but Buffy was hugging him so tightly he couldn't inhale. She was babbling incoherently. Finally, he managed to disengage her long enough to get his bearings.

"What is it, what's wrong?" he asked.

"What's wrong?" she yelled. He could see now, that she was crying. Buffy didn't cry easily, he figured something terrible was afoot. "You were gone! I couldn't find you. No note, no phone call. You just took off and I couldn't... I didn't know where you were, I had to reach out farther and farther but I still couldn't find you and we had to drive around aimlessly until I could..."

"Buffy, Buffy," he said, holding her arms. "It's all right. I'm right here. I'm here."

"I thought you'd left for good," she said, sniffling.

"I would never leave you," he said. "I will _never_ leave you."

"Okay," she said.

"We're a pair," he said. "We go together, you know that."

"I know," she said. "Slayer and Watcher."

"Watcher and Slayer," he answered. He looked up at Xander and Anya watching the display. Buffy and Giles had never been very emotional before, at least not in front of Buffy's friends, and Xander was watching as one might watch a horrible accident on the news. Fascinated, but terrified. "Xander, why don't you go on ahead. I'll bring Buffy home."

"Okay," he said. "Come on, Anya."

When they were gone, Buffy wiped her face on her sleeve.

"Sorry, God," she said. "I snapped."

"It's all right, I should have let you know where I was going," he said. "Come on, let's go."

In the car, he could tell he was holding something in.

"You can tell me anything," he reminded her.

"I was just thinking," she said. "I've been wondering what life would have been like if we'd stayed in Sunnydale. I'd be in school, living in the dorm. You'd be... What would you doing?"

"I have no idea," he said. "Helping you, I suppose."

"Yeah but, I mean... you helped me but you were the librarian, too."

"Until you decided you wanted to leave Sunnydale, I wasn't your technically your Watcher. And with the school destroyed, I was no longer the librarian, so I'm really not sure what I would be doing if we'd stayed," he said. He hadn't put a lot of thought into what was going to happen after the summer was over and Buffy started school and now it didn't matter. "Buffy, do you wish to stay here?"

"In the woods?"

"No, I meant, would you rather stay in Sunnydale. It is your life. No one says we have to leave again," Giles said.

"I do want to settle down and maybe have a permanent address. You know, find the evil and then nest around it like the old days but I don't want it to be here," Buffy said. "I love my mom and I love Willow and Xander but all I did in Sunnydale was worry about keeping them safe. I don't have to do that with you."

"I do find the travel tiring," Giles said. "I'll call the Council and see if they've learned anything new."

"I think we're wearing out our welcome anyway," Buffy said.

"I am," Giles said. "Your mother doesn't care for me, she doesn't care for us sharing a bed, and doesn't care for... well, me."

"It's not you," Buffy said. "Just everything you represent."

"I feel much better," he said, dryly.

"Giles," Buffy said. "Even if we don't know where to go, can we go?"

"When?" Giles asked.

"Tomorrow?" she asked.

"So soon?"

"I've watched every old movie every with my mother. I let her braid my hair. And Willow has class, Xander is working all the time. They did what we asked and went on with their lives and now..."

"We don't quite fit anymore." Giles finished the thought.

They took the Amtrak north. Giles didn't want to bother with a car if they were just going to be leaving the country. Besides, he liked the train. Watching the countryside pass by. Buffy slept, her feet on the seat across from her. The train wasn't very full. They had their small section to themselves. Giles had his nose in a book for most of the ride until the sun went down and the light in the train wasn't good enough to read by. The trip was seven hours, a little more and the train hadn't left the Sunnydale train station until the afternoon so they had another hour or so until they reached San Francisco.

Buffy woke with a jolt when the train started screeching to a halt. The lights flickered and Giles ducked his head as the luggage from above tumbled down into the aisle.

"What's happening?" Buffy asked.

"I don't know." Giles tried to look past the startled passengers to see what was out of place. Buffy's hand on his arm stilled him. "What?"

"Vampires," Buffy said. "I can feel them."

"How many?" he asked.

"I don't know," she said, pulling a stake out of her coat. "It's not an exact science, Giles."

"Well," he said. She jumped up onto the seat behind him to get to the aisle.

"I'm going to go check it out," she said. "Make sure everyone stays put." She moved off toward the front of the train. He didn't have to wait long before she brought the fighting back into their compartment. There were two and she was having trouble keeping them both at bay in the narrow aisle, especially since she was fighting over luggage and scared people. "Giles, help," she said, and shoved one of the vampires at him. He took the brunt of the weight and fell back between the seats, knocking his elbow hard on the armrest. The vampire hit the wall. Giles looked up, realized the window was open, and shoved the vampire until he fell out of the train. Buffy saw this and did the same. He watched her slide out the window. An outside fight was better. It was dark enough that he couldn't see the fight, couldn't spot Buffy. It seemed like a long time before Buffy climbed back in. Giles helped her, pulling her arms.

"You all right?" he asked.

"Fine, they're gone," Buffy said. "But the conductor is dead."

"I see," he said.

"I say we call emergency services and continue on foot," Buffy said.

"Agreed," Giles said.

"Everyone stay calm," Buffy yelled. "Help is on the way." Then she shoved their luggage out the window and followed it. Giles called 911 on his cell phone and used the door.

It was a mile hike before they found a motel for the night. They asked the clerk at the desk where they were.

"Sunnyvale," he answered, furrowing his brow.

"Seriously?" Buffy asked.

"Um," the clerk said, "Here's your key."

"Thank you," Giles said, accepting the piece of plastic. Buffy followed him, hefting the bags. The clerk gave him an disapproving look - probably something to do with letting the 19-year-old girl handle the bags, but he didn't care. He found their room and opened the door. It was the same sort of motel room they'd spent countless nights in. Two double beds, beige and mauve interior. Sometimes it was beige and teal. A sink, a toilet and a shower with a shallow tub. Buffy dropped everything and sat on the foot of the bed closest to the door.

"I didn't know there was a Sunnyvale," she said, looking around.

"There's a whole top half of this state, you know," he said. "Sunnyvale doesn't seem to be San Franci... Buffy, you're bleeding!"

"Hurt my arm," she said. The backside of her right arm was bloody. "Is it bad?"

"You've lost the shirt," he said. "Take it off and we'll have a look."

She obeyed, pulling the hem up and over her head while keeping the injured arm in the sleeve. He came over and helped ease the fabric away from the wound. The blood had already started to congeal and she winced as they worked her free.

"Xander asked me if you and I were having sex," she said. He looked down at her - her pale shoulders and black bra.

"That was quite the non-sequitur," he said, giving the shirt a final tug. He didn't even bother to look at it - just chucked it in the bin.

"He said we seemed different," she said, holding her arm out. The cut was deep but it looked clean enough. It was seeping blood still, probably from removing the shirt more than the original attack. He went into the bathroom to get a washcloth.

"We are different," Giles said. He ran the water until it was warm and got the cloth wet.

"I told Xander that the Council would probably flip out anyway," she said, not quite looking at him. Giles sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Give me your arm," he said. He'd been waiting for this - her to approach the subject of sexuality. They'd been traveling together, alone, for months. Living together, sharing beds and spaces. There was little they didn't share. Eventually she was going to notice that he was a man, or at least notice that he pretended not to notice she was a woman. She was going to notice that he woke up in the morning with an erection, that when they shared a bed he rolled away from her and insisted that she take the shower first.

He wiped the blood away. He could feel her flex the muscles in her arm experimentally.

"Giles?"

"Is the first aid kit in your bag?" he said. She nodded; retrieved it. "This is deep. How willing are you to go get stitches?"

"Not remotely willing," she said. "It doesn't even hurt that bad."

"All right. Butterfly it is, but I'm wrapping it tight and if isn't closed by morning, we're going to hospital," he said. The kit needed refilling too, another errand for the morning.

"Giles?" Buffy said again. He wasn't going to shake her questioning, it seemed.

"Yes," he said.

"What would the Council say about something like that?" she pressed.

"What kind of answer would you like, Buffy?" he asked. He knew what he should tell her and he knew the truth.

"The truth," she said, a wrinkle forming in her forehead. He reached for the roll of guaze - there wasn't much left. He would only get to wrap the whole wound twice.

"When we were in London, Travers asked me the same question," Giles said.

"Travers asked about our sex life?" she exclaimed. "What did you say?"

"Well, unless we've been having sex and I'm not aware of it, I told him the truth," Giles said. "Hold still."

"Why would he even ask you that?" Buffy asked.

"Slayers and Watchers," he began. She rolled her eyes. He started too many explanations with this phrase. "Slayers and Watchers have a unique but somewhat, ah, predictable relationship."

She blinked at him, confused.

"Think of it as a continuum," he said. "The moment in the library when we first met was the beginning of our journey and the longer we are together, the further along we move. And at certain points along the way, things tend to change."

"Change," she repeated softly.

"You began to trust me, you allowed me to train you, you forgave me for... well, at any rate, deciding to embrace your destiny and search out evil with me moved us to, to a new place in our relationship," he said and whipped off his glasses for a thorough cleaning while she absorbed this.

"I see," she said. "So it's a matter of convenience, then. Slayers and Watchers who... you know."

"No," Giles said. "I don't believe that's true. It denotes an extremely high level of trust and respect. Living this life means you can't have a normal relationship with a man, right?"

"Being a Slayer basically means that," she agreed. "Even if the guy is normal, I'm not."

"And I would never try to... as I've said, I'm for you only," he said, softly. "The moment I met you, I knew that. When you were so involved with Angel, I thought it would be harmless to date but... of course, it wasn't."

"Both of our honeys ended up dead," she said. "It didn't stick with Angel, it never does, but everything about it was a complete disaster."

"Indeed," Giles agreed. "There's a reason Watchers and Slayers are put together. It wasn't as if I was simply next in line to receive a Slayer. We were matched because we complimented one another. You were a feral Slayer, I, a rogue Watcher. I believe the Council thought that pairing would kill us both off rather quickly and they could wash their hands of the mess and move on."

"Instead, it worked better," Buffy said.

"Instead, you were... are amazingly gifted, Buffy," Giles said, smiling at her. "Your talent is astonishing."

"Well," she said. "I have my training to thank for that."

"How does your arm feel?" he asked. She looked at the bandaged area.

"Okay," she said. "Is it weird that we had this whole conversation while I wasn't wearing a shirt?"

"Buffy, you and I are part of a very old line," he said. "But our journey is our journey. What happens between you and I should be natural, not influenced by the past or by what you think should be happening."

"I understand," she said. She took his hand, laced their fingers. "Thanks for explaining everything."

"Just one of the many services I provide," he said, with a small smile. She raised her eyebrows.

"Was that a double entendre?" she asked.

"What do you say we get some sleep," he said. "In the morning we can figure out a plan."

"Fine," she said and paused a beat before asking, "Can I sleep with you in your bed? It feels... natural."

She smiled at him, pleased with her own cleverness and he rolled his eyes, but when she came out of the bathroom he held back the covers for her and she climbed in next to him, turning off the lamp and setting his arm over her. He allowed this, allowed himself to tuck her more firmly into the curve of his body, to kiss her head goodnight.

They took BART to San Francisco. She wanted to walk along the pier, pretend to be a tourist. Sometimes she felt like a vampire herself, waiting around for the sun to set. Giles bought her an ice cream cone and she kissed his cheek.

He thought she was radiant in the sunshine.

"You know," Giles said. He needed to tread lightly. "Just because we can do something, doesn't mean we should."

"Like wearing clogs," she said, leaning against the railing of the boardwalk. There were seals out sunbathing and barking at one another.

"That isn't quite what I meant," he said.

"You mean like, oh, I don't know, Willow and doing too much magic," she said.

"That's a, by far, better example," he said. "But I mean you and me."

"I know," she said. "Are you uncomfortable with me touch you in public or something?"

"No!" he said. "On the contrary, I just don't want you to feel obligated to... to..."

"To what?" she asked. "Hold your hand? Kiss your cheek?"

"To love me," he said.

"Giles," she said, softly. "I know I haven't always been... I should have told you more often. I should have been kinder to you. But, I do love you. I do."

"Buffy," he said, shaking his head. "I didn't say something so you would have to tell me that."

She rolled her eyes.

"We are really emotionally retarded you and I," she said, finishing her cone and wiping her hands on her pants. They'd left their bags in a motel room several blocks away and they headed back that way now. "You spend half your breath convincing me that you aren't going to leave me and I spend not enough time reminding you that I love you and we're both miserable."

"You don't make me miserable," Giles said.

"We make ourselves miserable," she said. "We're super good at it. We're like the king and queen of Painville. But the thing of it is, you're totally devoted to me and I know that."

"It's true," he said.

"Then you should know that it's a two way street. I'm not going to leave you either," Buffy said. "I picked you over my mother, my friends..."

"I didn't ask you to do that," he interrupted.

"But I did. I chose you over Angel, over Sunnydale - twice - over everything. And I don't think it was the wrong choice," Buffy said. "I just... I just can't figure out how to make it stick in your head."

He smiled at her.

"I think it's beginning to sink in," he said.

"Giles, I think we're on the right path," she said. "We took a break, but we can't wait around forever. I can do good work while we wait. Clean up San Francisco, Phoenix, Denver. We can blaze a trail, we can spread the word that no demon is safe, that if anyone tries to take control of a human population, that we'll come for them."

"In Sunnydale, evil just came to us," Giles said. "There never was any waiting around."

"And there isn't going to be any now," she said. "And whatever happens to us while we're on the road is what happens."

"Naturally," he said.

"Naturally," she agreed. He took her hand as they walked.

"I like San Francisco," he said, looking around. "This is a good city."

"Let's make sure it stays that way," Buffy said.


End file.
